silent kid don't lose your graceful tongue.i have a dangerously pressing desire to tell an unfortunate amount of secrets.
Newest
a collection of mornings, iiv.a collection of mornings, ii
we backtrack where we should not, turning in a too-small bed to the freezing glare of ten am. uptown and downtown again. this is not a cure.
vi.
i say i am sorry and he says don’t be. we creep back towards consciousness and i send him home in a flood of light and spring air. i wash my sheets of my indiscretion, his infidelity. so much for tacit understanding.
vii.
he whispers, turn your back from the dawn, our friends don’t have curtains. i grind sugar into my teeth and think of him when i taste cigarettes. blondes are all sweetness.
viii.
alone, languorous.
by ~yourotherleft
pirateby ~yourotherleft
a change of scenery, perhapsIt was after a year in the desert. Standing stranded on the tarmac I would have publicly imploded for a place to put my head and sleep just long enough for the dirt under my fingernails to turn to diamonds. I would have abandoned my image for a sleeve down which to cough up my lungs and never breathe that dry air again. Instead I found myself in a native’s Jeep, spiraling up hills until that neon tourist trap of a city melted into mist-heavy rainforest. I abandoned the modern age for an ancient one in which the thirsty dip their hands into a stream and drink without fear.a change of scenery, perhaps
If the ancients feared liars, I was the enemy. In all my
by ~yourotherleft
sketch of a boy i knowIt was that angled jaw and perfect symmetry that caught my eye from across the room. I could have stripped that boy down to his skeleton and still have found him beautiful. He had the sort of intellect that could find Lafayette Street on a map of Pangaea, that knows what Manhattan looked like before the advent of modern architecture. He was from the desert and I dreamt sand in his rough cheeks and dark curls. He held my waist as we slipped east down Ninth Street. Our curves locked together; his hips complimented mine.sketch of a boy i know
by ~yourotherleft
Favourites
addressing her past, today.-addressing her past, today.
addressing her past, today.
already, the flowing water reminded her of storm scattered skies and bouts of sadness; while her head hung motionless above a white sink basin and leaking faucet.
-
by ~champion-of-idiots
love poem- number 6Our kisses were always more beautiful than the ones pinned on your wall.love poem- number 6
But they could never be therre to watch you sleep
So you dont know which one is real: Static permanence Arms painted around eachother Forever there in gold leaf
or
A dissapearing and reappearing act of passion Complete with mystery and mirrors: It's emcee, calender dates and flight numbers
step right up.
step
right
up
Until you can't tell you're alone or claustraphobic
when you look in the mirror.
Until so
by ~YouSHouldSleep
deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: brooklyn.
- Interests: history, etymology, alan alda.
- Favourite movie: high fidelity, lost in translation, predictable shit.
- Favourite band or musician: nick cave, tom waits, greg dulli, wilco.
- Favourite genre of music: sad old bastard, madchester, matador records.
- Favourite artist: robert rauschenburg, r. mutt.
- Favourite poet or writer: henry miller, milan kundera, graham greene, ee cummings.
- Favourite photographer: richard avedon.
- Operating System: panther, bitch.
- MP3 player of choice: ipod.
- Shell of choice: newton's shell theorem.
- Tools of the Trade: ink everywhere.
- Email: uphillbothways@earthlink.net
- AIM: five gun lullaby
- ICQ: 285020311
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I am envious.
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Les grandes personnes ne comprennent jamais rien toutes seules, et c’est fatigant, pour les enfants, de toujours et toujours leur donner des explications.
--
Life is an endless wake.
isn't it?
--
[link]
DON'T SWEAR AT THE INSTIGATIVE RETARD WITH THE BAN BUTTON.
cntrlrb20@aol.com
--
"What wasted unconditional love on somebody who doesn't believe in the stuff... Oh, well."
brAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIinnnnnsss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*chomp*
You were bitten by a zombie.... well.... there aren't any rules when you're undead...... just bite as many people as you can okay.......
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[link] [link] [link] [link] [link]
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"...forget our one last kiss goodbye..."
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I lik Mudkipz!!!
--
***
For all poets: [link]
Ohhhhh. I'd like a pair of those.
*runs*
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
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